


Liquid Courage

by khasael



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drunk Stiles, Drunkenness, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Slips of the Tongue, Stiles Has No Brain-To-Mouth Filter, The Author Regrets Nothing, Werewolves Have Super Hearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 07:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khasael/pseuds/khasael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles's brain-to-mouth filter isn't great, even at the best of times. This...is not the best of times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Liquid Courage

**Author's Note:**

> This was a two-line exchange in my head that I went to jot down on my phone during the commute home. By the time I got to my stop, I had this. I don't even know. Much thanks to Groolover, for betaing yet another thing I wrote on my phone and helping me track down where autocorrect fails at actual correcting.

Of all the weird social situations Stiles has found himself in, this might not be at the top of the list, but it's still notable.

Derek Hale is standing in Stiles's room, looking a little lost and overwhelmed, and _definitely_ rethinking his life's choices. And he's doing it from his spot just inside the window (because even after all this time, he still hasn't bothered to be less of a creeper about that, like simply being a supernatural creature gives you the right to skip the front door and use windows instead, and, actually, Stiles knows Scott's used his fair share of windows since he was bitten, so maybe it's some sort of drive he just doesn't know about; maybe he'll ask later). And he's doing it while Stiles and Scott are lounged across the bed, where Stiles is kicking Scott's ass on the XBox, despite having a significant buzz going.

"Are you _drunk_?" Derek asks after a moment more of just standing there, his hands in his hair. He sort of makes Stiles think this is the look a particularly dismayed babysitter would have. Which, not fair. Maybe if it were just Scott, but Stiles doesn't require sitting, dammit.

Okay, he does in the physical sense, he realizes when he attempts to get up to snag the pretzels from his desk. Sitting is definitely a better idea than standing.

"No," he says, because he can.

Scott looks over at Derek and tries to nod his head subtly, but subtlety isn't exactly a natural skill of Scott's. Even drunk, Stiles sees it.

"I know he's lying," Derek says, and if he could sound any more like he's just given up on something-or-other (probably Scott and Stiles, in general), he probably would. Derek gives Scott a look like "born werewolf here, idiot." Scott, to Stiles's amusement, just sort of shrugs with one shoulder and turns his attention back to the game. There's a noise--a sniff, Stiles realizes a second later, when he also notices Derek's moved a little closer--and Derek sighs aggressively. "Even if I couldn't hear it, I can _smell_ him."

Scott gives another shrug. "Lay off him. He got rejected pretty hard today."

"Crashed and burned," Stiles says, nodding and doing the dive-bomb motion with his hand. He drops the controller out of his other one. Meh, his heart wasn't in the game, anyway. The whole thing had been a disastrously failed attempt at getting Stiles over his mini-meltdown regarding his absolute lack of realistic relationship options. Just once, it would be nice to want someone he can actually have a shot at, before they either laugh in his face or something happens and they disappear out of his life.

Nodding's probably something he shouldn't do a lot of, right now, though.

Derek gives another sniff, and this time Scott rolls his eyes. Stiles takes that as his cue that it's really not necessary, and even breaching whatever kind of werewolf etiquette exists. "Dude. That sniffing thing's kind of weird."

"At least he's not licking you," Scott mutters, and Stiles can't quite figure out what that means. Is that a werewolf thing? Has Derek licked Scott? Or is it like some sort of supernatural BAC monitor, like he can tell how drunk Stiles is by the taste of his skin or sweat or whatever? So many questions. 

Also, that would make your standard roadside sobriety test _so_ much more interesting. 

"He wouldn't lick me," Stiles snorts. That is so...just...kinda hot, actually. Not a Derek thing, sadly, but Stiles would theoretically not object to such a thing. As long as we're talking sexy licking, and not, like, happy-to-see-you doggy-tongue-bath. 

"Oh, your ass is going to get licked," Derek mutters, heavily sarcastic, even for him, and Stiles knows it's habit, an automatic response, because they've had so many instances of Derek trying to throw back insults based on the last thing he or Scott have said, when he should really just stick to a simple "your face!" It's just as mature.

And safer, Stiles realizes a second after he murmurs "don't tease, unless you plan to follow through with that," loud enough for werewolves to hear, which really isn't that loud, to be fair.

Whoops.

Derek freezes. Scott drops his own controller and jerks upright. "Oh God," he says, looking first at Stiles, then at Derek, and then back at Stiles. "Oh God, I am so out of here, and asking Deaton if he has anything to remove visual images from my brain. I--I can't--I--" And then he bolts, probably clearing the stairs in one jump, by the sound of it.

"What?" Derek asks as they're alone, turning to look at Stiles and sounding like someone's strangling him. He looks like he's having some serious problems processing whatever just happened.

"What?" Stiles responds, playing dumb, because he can't figure out what else to do. Oh god, he'd said that aloud. With supernatural ears right here in the room. He hadn't even been totally aware he was thinking it, and then there it was, sound waves being transmitted to everyone. Why couldn't Derek have picked better comebacks? "Your ass is going to get burned," and "your ass is going to get thrown in the trash," in response to Stiles giving him shit over his forgotten pork-chops-turned-charcoal was bad enough. But this? Oh man.

"You're drunk," Derek says after a painfully silent moment. Like he's trying to assure himself Stiles had no idea what he'd said, would forget this, and they could walk into the same room later and not both die of embarrassment. 

"Yeah," Stiles agrees. Because he is. But it wasn't as if alcohol made him say the opposite of what he was thinking. It really just reduced his brain-to-mouth filter to what amounted to zero. 

"You didn't mean that in...that way," Derek says, nodding. He swallows hard, and Stiles may be drunk, but he thinks that means Derek's guard isn't quite as high, and he sees something. Like when you dangle a steak in front of a dog, then pull it away.

"Is my ass a steak?" Stiles blurts, and yeah, seriously, _zero_ filter between brain and mouth.

Derek goes from looking upset to just looking confused and a little worried. "...Should I take you to the hospital? Or Scott's mom, or Deaton?" 

"I mean," Stiles says, giving this standing thing another go, and trying not to make Derek think he's so drunk he's incoherent, "uh, is it something you want? My ass?"

Derek's eyebrows do this really interesting thing Stiles is pretty sure he couldn't replicate on command if his life depended on it. "Wha--?"

"Because it's something you can have," Stiles cuts him off, giving up any attempt at controlling his mouth. It got him here; may as well go for broke. "You know. For, uh, licking?" Derek colors a deep red, and Stiles hopes to God that's his "why, yes, I would like that, as this tension between us is largely sexual" face, and not his "I am about to actually, literally, rip your throat out with my teeth, because how dare you?" face.

"Stiles..." Derek says--groans, really--and Stiles watches Derek's hands spasm, like he's stopped himself from reaching out. "You're drunk," he says again, for what seems like the tenth time, only this time it sounds weak, almost sad.

"I am," Stiles says softly, moving slowly so he's standing right in front of Derek, a lot closer than he normally gets. Derek keeps harping on that, like Stiles doesn't know and needs to be aware of it. It's actually pretty annoying, because Stiles _does_ know it, but that doesn't change much here. "But all that really means is that I'm brave enough to do this." He tilts his face a little, just enough so that his mouth presses against Derek's. And then he figures, fuck it, he's in deep enough already, opens his mouth a little, and licks lightly at Derek's bottom lip. 

It's very satisfying, to see Derek's eyes flutter shut, hear his breath hitch, and feel his hands come up to grip Stiles's hips. Better reaction than he was hoping for, really.

It lasts about four seconds, and then Derek's pushing him away, but gently. "You're drunk," he whispers softly.

"You sound like a broken record. Or a pod person," Stiles tells him. "You're very concerned with that point." He very deliberately looks into Derek's eyes and holds his gaze. "Would you like to try again when I'm not?"

Derek's face goes from hungry to guilty to desperate to hopeful in about a second, maybe two. "I..."

Stiles laughs. Derek's not usually much for words that aren't sarcastic or biting, and he seems at a total loss here. Talking, though, has never been a problem for Stiles. "Would you _let_ me do it again? Sober?"

Derek just keeps staring. After a moment, he nods. "If you try it again, sober, I won't stop you. But if you decide you don't want to, I won't...be offended."

Stiles thinks that last part might actually be a lie, but it's not one they're gonna have to deal with. He'll write himself a damned note and tape it to his computer if he has to, reminding himself that kissing Derek wasn't a dream, and he has explicit permission to try it again, if he wants.

Yep, he wants. 

He grins at Derek and lets himself flop backwards onto the bed. "Good," he says. After a beat, Derek wishes him an awkward goodnight and starts to climb out the window. Stiles settles back onto his pillows and grins even wider, to himself this time. "Maybe it'll even be _your_ ass that gets licked," he murmurs to no one. It's a fun thought.

Outside, Stiles hears what might just be the sound of a full-grown werewolf falling off the roof.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [(Podfic of) Liquid Courage by Khasael](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662943) by [chemm80](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemm80/pseuds/chemm80)




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